Like You Love Me (Honey Creek 1)

“I guess I am a little lost,” I admit. “I’m new here. Have lots of things to do.”

“Where are you from?”

“Arizona. Taking a job at Montgomery Farms.”

She nods politely. “Arizona, huh? One hot place to another.”

“Coincidentally, yes. Now I need to find a place to live and get my things hauled over here.”

“There’s an apartment open in my complex. A couple of them, actually. Some of the girls moved out since the boys aren’t coming back on time . . .” Her face falls. “If you want the number, I can give it to you.”

“Sure. But may I ask, why aren’t the boys coming back?”

She grins. “My boyfriend is in the marines. They’re overseas right now. They were supposed to be gone a few months, but it got extended. It’s sad, you know. Hard for them. But some of the girls move on with their lives. Some of them have to for school or for family support. There are all kinds of reasons.”

“Wow. That’s rough.”

She shrugs as if she’s resigned to the situation. “It’s just how it works. I mean, I don’t like him leaving, but he loves it. So I deal.”

“Has he ever thought about doing something else? Because, man, that has to be hard to go without seeing each other like that.” I force a swallow. “I just . . . Well, my wife is back at home, where her heart is, and . . . here I am.”

My face gets hot, and it’s not from the sun.

The truth hanging out there like that cuts deep. It exposes the rawness of the situation and how simple yet complicated it is. But if anyone should understand, it’s Roxie.

She looks around the patio. Most of the customers who were here when I arrived have gone, the brunch rush now over. Only a few tables are full, and they seem to be leisurely reading on their phones or having breezy conversations with their tablemates.

Pulling out a chair across from me, she sits.

“Would it be okay if I make a quick observation?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ve watched you since you got here. And not watched you like I’ve spied on you or something, but more like I’ve been curious as to what your story is. Everyone has a story. Believe me—I’ve heard them all. And I make a little game out of it, if I’m being honest. I make up little backstories for people, and it’s fun to see if I’m right.” She tilts her head to the side. “I was both right and wrong about you.”

“Oh really? What did you think my backstory was?”

She grins. “I knew you were heartbroken. That was easy. You kind of wear it on your sleeve.”

“I beg to differ,” I protest.

She laughs. “About what? That you’re heartbroken or that you wear it on your sleeve?”

“I think I hide my misery very well, thank you.”

Her face wrinkles up like she’s embarrassed for me. It makes me laugh. That feels good.

“So your wife is in Arizona, huh?” she asks.

“No. She’s in Tennessee.”

“But you said she was back at home. Didn’t you say you were from Arizona?”

Her question echoes through my mind as she sits patiently and waits for my response. I gaze into the distance as I replay her words again and again.

“You said she was back at home.”

I did say that. She’s at the Honey House. Her home. But . . . why does it feel like my home too? Why did I mean it to mean my home when I said it originally?

“She must really love you,” Roxie says with a laugh. “That’s all I can say.”

My head snaps to her. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, for one, don’t take this the wrong way, because loyalty is my jam and I’m in a very happy, albeit very distant at this point in time, relationship, but you’re super cute. And you seem nice and like you do well for yourself. And if she let you go, she must really love you.”

It’s like the world stops moving. Everything outside of the table, everything besides me and Roxie blurs as I digest that.

“I mean, I love my man,” she continues. “It’s the only reason I stay with him. And it’s the reason why I don’t ask him to leave the forces even though he could.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Wait,” I say, sitting. My eyes are wild. I can tell by the way she recoils. “Say that again.”

“What?”

I waggle a finger her way. “The thing you just said. About why you don’t ask him to stay home.”

“It’s his passion. He loves it. And although I hate that he’s gone and the worry that comes with it, I won’t be the reason he doesn’t live a fulfilled life. I won’t do that to him, and I don’t want to carry that guilt around either. I love him too much.”